


hearts in freefall

by rokosourobouros



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: BDSM, Demisexuality, Dom/sub Undertones, Eleventh Doctor Era, Infertility, Multi, Past Sexual Assault, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokosourobouros/pseuds/rokosourobouros
Summary: In which the Angels of Manhattan never happened, the Doctor is trying to let himself be in love, and Amy and Rory are in couples counselling.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/Amy Pond/Rory Williams
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Specific tws for this chapter: medical stuff/hospitals, past sexual assault/abuse, and some really hard discussion about infertility
> 
> a note on the latter! i personally am like SUPER pro-adoption, but amy's experience in s6 was so awful and harrowing that i feel like being able to reclaim that would be really important for her. especially w/ the TARDIS's capabilities, it seems well within the realm of possibility.

It’s been a while since Amy admitted to Rory and the Doctor what was wrong, and things are starting to settle back to normal. The Doctor shows up once in a while, sometimes to bring them a present, sometimes to tell them about another adventure, not-so-subtly trying to tempt them back onto the TARDIS. She and Rory go to couples counselling, and it goes pretty well; she can’t shake the feeling that she’s playing a part, though. She’s never quite managed to be the Right Kind Of Wife, or the Right Kind Of Friend. Her therapist keeps reassuring that not being able to bear children doesn’t change how much she loves Rory, and she _knows_ that. She’s just… always been restless.

One day, though, when the Doctor lands, she’s at home alone, sleeping off a photoshoot that dragged on forever. She wakes up to the sound of the TARDIS in her garden, and by the time she’s managed to sit up, the Doctor is knocking on her bedroom door, looking sheepish and wringing his hands in that little way he has when he’s trying to be unobtrusive and doesn’t actually know how to do it.

“I have clothes on,” she says teasingly. “You can come in.”

“Oh good. I’ve gone enough years without getting yelled at by your husband, I’d like to keep the streak going.”

Amy tries not to laugh at that. The… _thing_ with her and the Doctor has never really been put to rest. Times like this she can feel it humming in the air, a near-miss-mistake that still makes her blush sometimes. It helps that the Doctor and Rory are friends now, but sometimes, she still wonders.

“Listen, I wanted to pop in, and –“ His words fail him, and he comes into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking her hands in his. She can’t imagine what could possibly be so important that it has him this nervous.

“What happened with River- Melody –“

The wound opens up again in a heartbeat. “What about it?” She tries to brush it off.

He seems to change topics. “I know you wanted her. So badly. I –“ He raises her hand to his mouth, planting a kiss on her knuckles. He’s never known how normal people interact. “Do you want to be pregnant again? I mean – do you _want_ another baby? Or to adopt, or…”

Amy blinks, trying to process the question. It seems almost cruel to ask her that. “I – well, if I could, yeah, I’d want another baby. I can’t replace Melody, but I never… I don’t know.” She shrugs, trying to keep the casual mask on. “I never got to actually _be_ pregnant, or ask Rory to run down the shop for, I don’t know, pickles? Or have a baby.”

She might start crying if she keeps going, and it doesn’t matter how much the Doctor is everything to her, she still avoids looking like a wimp when she can. So she just manages a soft grin.

“I’ve been poking around. Trying to figure out what exactly, you know – what _happened,_ and if it’s reversible. And, if you wanted –“

The breath catches in Amy’s throat.

“I could take you somewhere, if you’re okay with that. It’s pretty far away, and I’d have to tell them you’re a time traveler, and I can’t even guarantee it’d work, human biology changes a _lot_ in that many centuries –“

“Yes,” Amy says, immediately. It’s not that she feels like less of a woman or a wife for not being able to _have_ a baby. It’s that – there’s a whole time of her life she can’t remember. A whole experience that’s missing. A whole terrifying, beautiful thing that was taken from her.

She wants it back.

“Yes,” she says again. “We can – can we go now?”

“You don’t want to tell Rory?”

She scrubs away the tears that are stubbornly threatening to fall despite her orders. “If it works, I’ll tell him. I can’t – He wants to be a dad _so badly,_ Doctor. I told him to go find somebody else and that didn’t work. So,” she manages a bright smile through her hazy vision, “let’s go, yeah?”

\----

The nurses are cats. She wasn’t expecting that.

She also wasn’t expecting them to greet the Doctor with a smile, although at least some of them look like their smiles are hiding teeth. “Doctor! We weren’t expecting you back so soon. And you have a new face already?”

“Oh, yes, well.” He tugs his ear. “Been a while on _my_ end. Sorry about the, you know. Lady Cassandra business.”

“The nuns responsible have been expelled from the hospital,” the Sister replies firmly, although there’s a tinge of colour to her fur that suggests otherwise. “How can we help you today?”

The Doctor just steps aside and lets Amy take charge, which is… refreshingly unusual. He chimes in whenever she falters on how to explain something. There’s a moment when the nun glances at him with a little bit of surprise, and he throws up his hands. “I’m not the father! Or intended father. Or previous father. Just – just a friend.”

“Weren’t you here with another girl last time?” she says sweetly.

“Of course you’d bring that up,” he grumbles.

The nurse takes Amy into a room, gets her to change into a gown, and then it’s time to wait. The Doctor is ready to step outside, but she shakes her head.

“Stay with me.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I –“

“I can’t do this on my own.” Amy wonders if she should tell him. Her past has been changed on her so many times, but if she focuses, she can remember all of them. She thinks the physical reality of her assault has been scrubbed out of existence by now – it was the friendless girl with no parents who was easy prey for a teacher with no conscience – but the memory lingers even when she isn’t fully conscious of it. “I don’t like strangers looking at me,” she says quietly. “I – can’t.”

The Doctor is ready to ask. Then he just nods and sits down next to the bed as she kicks her legs off the side. Humans are taller in the future, and there’s a good three inches between her and the floor.

“Why do you care so much?” she asks finally.

“Hm?”

“All my life, all this time, you’ve cared so much about my life. Making sure me and Rory are happy. Trying to find Mel. Taking care of River. Why?” It’s the friendless past that’s speaking for her right now, she can tell that much; the empty house and the crack in the wall. Who would care enough about her not to just drag her along on adventures but also to try to fix her home life?

“Oh, well, I’m the Doctor, it’s what i –“

“Shut it,” she groans. “I want an actual answer.”

His smile fades, replaced with a contemplative look.

“I _know_ you’re going to say it’s because you feel guilty, and I am _so_ tired of-“

“It’s not that. Or not just that, anyway.” He chews on the inside of his cheek, hands folded in his lap. “I tried being in love, before,” he says. “A few times.”

“What happened?”

He shrugs. “The first time was fine. We had children. Grandchildren. And then the war happened, and I lost all of them.”

The immensity of it hits Amy like a crowbar. She’d always _known,_ of course, that he’d probably had children and a life before. He just seems so young most of the time that it’s easy to forget.

“I tried again. And I lost her too. She’s fine, she’s okay, she’s alive. And she’s happy. Just… not with me.” The pain in his smile is something Amy feels right down to her core. It’s a normal, human kind of hurt – the kind she’s felt before, trying to get Rory to find another wife, a better wife, an ordinary wife with a working body and without a fear of the dark that has her waking up in the middle of the night with terrified tears falling down her face.

The Doctor adjusts his bowtie, the way he does when he’s nervous and trying to avoid his emotions. Hard to do when he’s talking like this, but that’s just how he is. “You deserve to be happy,” he says finally, “and running down corridors is fun and all, but you should get the normal stuff, too.”

Usually she’d tease him about how ‘normal’ isn’t really in his playbook. Instead, she says quietly, “You miss being a dad, don’t you?”

He presses his knuckles to his mouth and doesn’t answer, although she can see the mist in his eyes. He closes them, and when a tear actually falls down his face, he hurriedly scrubs it away. “Oh, well, it’s not so bad. I have godchildren everywhere. Alfie’s taken quite a liking to the bowtie look, and Sophie blames me.”

“And then there’s River,” she can’t help but add with a grin.

“Don’t remind me. I want it _absolutely clear_ that everything with me and her started long, long before I’d even met you. I am not a cradle-robber,” he pronounces, folding his arms.

Oh, she has to bite her tongue. He glares at her, raising a thin eyebrow. “I am _just_ psychic enough,” he grumbles. “Don’t you get on that again. You started it.”

“You sure didn’t seem to mind.”

He harrumphs, getting up from the chair to glance out the window, but his gaze is drawn back to her anyway. “I just hope it works.” He brushes a lock of hair out of her face, and Amy is suddenly struck with an impulse that she thought was gone a long time ago. She wants to kiss him. And from the look on his face – the scared, hesitant look – he wants to kiss her too.

The door opens, and the Doctor sticks his hands in his pockets, turning away and letting the nurse do her work.

\---

It’s not a surgery, in the end. It’s a series of pills that will – Amy doesn’t fully understand, but the nurse said it would regenerate her ovaries and womb, so she’s fine with that. Besides, fewer scars.

The Doctor is still worried, but Amy manages to convince him that she can call him if there’s a _serious_ problem. But as they land, she finally decides it’s time.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Hm? What is it, Pond?”

“All of those years ago…” Her courage almost fails her, but she’s too Scottish for that. “You always try to break my faith in you and it doesn’t work, and when you do manage to get away, you always come back. And when I kissed you…”

He starts fumbling with the controls.

“Doctor.”

“Those pills should be fine, you’re right, I’m just concerned about the changes in human biology –“ He’s rambling, repeating himself –

“ _Doctor_.”

He slams his hand down on the console, then immediately sighs. “Sorry. That was loud.” He’s not angry. She always knows when he’s angry. He’s scared.

“I’m not asking because I’m mad.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he replies softly.

“I just want you to be honest with me. I’m not going to run away with you and drop everything. I just want to know.”

He slumps, resting his elbows on the console and his hands in his hair. “Fine. _Yes,_ Amy, I liked kissing you. I would have liked to keep kissing you. And that would be fine, if it had ever, ever, _ever_ gone well. If it had, this would be a completely different conversation.”

It should have shocked her. She’s spent so long convincing herself that the Doctor still saw her as a stray, runaway kid. But she’s not. The Doctor loves Amelia Pond, but he loves Amy Pond, too. “I –“

“Amy, please.” His voice is so ragged that she thinks he might scream. Not at her. Just… scream. “I can’t do this again.”

“And I’ll never ask you to.”

“Please go.”

She does. She gets up, makes sure she has the pills. But first, she goes to him, leans over, and kisses his cheek. “Thank you,” she says, and she’s not sure if it’s for the trip to New Earth, or being honest with her finally, or both. Probably both.

Despite him telling her to leave, when she goes into the house, the TARDIS doesn’t vanish. It stands there for the whole night, keeping watch. Only after she takes the first pill, and the only reaction she has is a minor wince at the pain in her stomach, does the sound of its dematerialization finally sound.

Rory comes in from his shift at work a little while later. “Oh, was the Doctor here?”

“Yes,” she says cautiously. “How’d you know?”

“He’s gotten into the habit of leaving us food, and I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” He holds up the jar uncertainly. “Pickles are bad enough, but I’m not sure what these were _before_ they were pickled.” Rory rolls his eyes, but Amy can tell under his complaining that he’s touched by the gesture. “He also got you fish fingers and custard. At least that one I know the context of. Weirdos.”

She knows what that one is this time. An apology, and a reminder. Fish fingers and custard. _I’m coming back, promise, pinky swear._ Even though she tells herself she doesn’t need comforting anymore, that she’s long past the fear that he’ll just leave and never come back, that she’ll disappoint him somehow –

-she still smiles, and hugs Rory until his confusion turns into a smile, and thinks it’s okay to feel safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific chapter warnings: pedophilia accusation (the Dream Lord's a scumbag), family/child death discussed a little more than last time, jealousy, cheating (sssssort of, the Doctor seems to think so)

Rory Williams is freaking out. The Doctor can tell this, because Rory Williams is knocking on his door with an urgency that would _usually_ mean that somebody is angry. Except, well, there’s very particular things that Rory gets mad at him over. The Doctor’s made a mental list by now. Being reckless with the lives of others, being an overconfident jerk, assuming other people are stupid…

Top of the list, though, and most likely, is anything to do with Amy.

The Doctor snaps, opening the TARDIS doors while his head is stuck under the console, and takes the opportunity to see if he can get all the wires to stay in one place while he handles what he’s sure will be a tricky conversation.

“Did you have any intention of _telling me?_ ”

“Hello, Rory!” the Doctor exclaims, pulling himself out from underneath and then just lying on the floor with his hands on his stomach. “Nice to see you too. How’s the weather? Play any football lately?”

“What?”

“I’m working on this small talk thing. Isn’t it great?”

“Now is _not the time!_ ” Rory grabs at his hair. “What are you playing at?”

“Me? I’m fixing the TARDIS console. More precisely, one of the lights which apparently _isn’t_ meant to be a blinky light.”

“You know what I mean!”

The Doctor takes pity on Rory, sitting up and draping his arms over his knees. “What’s happened?”

“A-Amy’s pregnant.”

The Doctor doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does. Rory looks so _terrified._ He remembers what that’s like, and he’s so glad to see that look on his friend’s face finally.

“Don’t laugh,” Rory growls. “Those pills could have done anything to her!”

“That’s why I’ve been sticking around. And for the record, it was her idea not to tell you. She wanted to make sure they worked first.”

“Typical,” Rory sighs. “I’m her _husband._ I should get to know things like this-“

“What would you have said? No?”

“I –“ Then Rory pauses. “I suppose not,” he mumbles.

“And it worked! Excellent!”

“It… it did. It worked. And now she’s pregnant.” Rory looks ready to rip his hair out by the roots, but he doesn’t look angry anymore. Now he just looks lost. “I don’t know how to be a dad. Whenever River comes to visit I feel like she’s my aunt.”

The Doctor gets to his feet and pats Rory on the shoulder. “Wanna know a secret? Nobody does.”

“My dad says that kind of thing,” Rory sighs. “I don’t trust it.”

“You don’t trust much of anything, Rory. But don’t worry. This is a completely normal reaction.”

“Coming from you?”

The Doctor lets that one slide. Instead, his hands come to rest on the TARDIS banister, and he smiles to himself. “When Marren got pregnant, I thought her husband was going to pass out.”

“Marren?”

The Doctor takes a deep breath. It gets easier, all the time. Then he turns around, hopping up onto the banister and sitting there as he watches Rory. “My daughter. Oldest daughter, to be specific.”

“Your –“ Rory sits down heavily.

“Parn helped him calm down, but I’m serious. Nobody knows how to be a dad.”

“Is Parn one of your other kids?”

It’s such a kindness that Rory does, that little slip into the present tense. He shakes his head. “Parn is Marren’s wife.”

“She had a wife _and_ a husband?”

The Doctor really does laugh this time. “I don’t know why you thought Time Lords have two hearts.” That’s touching on something even more raw and close than this, though. It’s surprisingly comfortable to talk about his family, after all this time. He can pretend he’s a normal man with a family life and a house to go home to.

“What about you?”

“Oh, no different. Being a dad is difficult. You’ll make a good one, though. I mean, if you’re even _half_ as devoted to your kid as you are to Amy…”

Rory buries his head in his hands and starts to cry.

The Doctor isn’t surprised by this, either. He crosses the room and tangles his hand in Rory’s hair, comfort given as Rory processes the resurrection of a dream he was ashamed of having. It’s not a bad thing to wish for the impossible, and if the Doctor prides himself on anything, it’s for moments like this; when he’s fixing things instead of breaking them.

Rory slumps, his head leaning against the Doctor’s hip, and it’s such an intimate gesture that the Doctor can feel both of his hearts skip a beat. Rory used to hate him. Sometimes he wonders if he still does. But the Doctor’s never hated Rory. Not even slightly. Much the opposite – which is the problem.

“Do you want to lie down in the TARDIS for a bit?” the Doctor asks. He loves Amy dearly, but he’s guessing she’s in full planning mode, which is part of why Rory is so overwhelmed.

Rory just nods quietly, so drained he can’t even speak. So the Doctor breaks another of his rules with his companions. He leans down and picks up Rory in his arms. Rory’s so gangly that his legs stick out all over the place, but that’s fine. He carries Rory over to one of the TARDIS bedrooms , and sets him down on the bed.

“Since when have you been the kind of person to pick people up?” Rory half-teases, but there’s a flush on his face. He probably didn’t even realize the Doctor could.

“I do have feelings, you know.” It’s not quite what the Doctor meant to say. He meant to say something more along the lines that he can be compassionate, he can be tender – but Rory knows that.

A little while ago, he’d kissed Rory. Mostly impulsively. Mostly out of humour, to see how he’d react, but also, they’d been on a spaceship with dinosaurs at the time. It hasn’t come up since, but the Doctor can see in Rory’s face that he’s finally remembering it.

“I never thought about you with a wife before,” Rory admits. “Or a husband. Both?”

“Both, yeah.”

“That sounds…nice,” Rory admits. “Being more than just two of you. Not having to choose.”

The Doctor just chuckles. Then he does the same thing he had with Amy. He takes Rory’s hand in his own, and plants a kiss on his knuckles, trying to put every unspoken undertone of their conversation into it. Then he says gently, “Get some sleep.”

Once he’s out into the control room again, the thoughts catch up with him. _Selfish. This is their marriage. Stay out of it. It’s bad enough that you meddle constantly._ The Dream Lord again. Ever since the bastard of his intrusive thoughts gave himself a name, it’s stuck. _It’s not bad enough that you’re still making moves on his wife years later, now you’re going to string along_ him _as well?_

“Stop it,” the Doctor hisses. “Stop.”

The Dream Lord just laughs at him. _Maybe you should go see what he was like when he was seven. Since you have such a fondness for kids –_

“SHUT UP!”

The voice rings around the control room, just underlining how empty it is. The Doctor slumps, feeling like he might just pass out, or throw himself into a black hole, or –

Rory’s arms wrap around him from behind.

“Rory” He’s breathless for a second with humiliation. Rory _heard him._ For a second he thinks Rory heard the Dream Lord too, but that part was all in his head.

But Rory knows him. Rory’s been around for so long, he’s seen the Doctor at his darkest and his worst. Rory can put two and two together. That makes it so much worse.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of _you,_ ” the Doctor tries to joke, but Rory just holds him anyway, and he gives into temptation, leaning into him and letting himself enjoy being weak.

A moment later, Rory’s lips graze over his temple, hesitant, sweet. “You don’t have to try so hard to be perfect, you know.”

The Doctor doesn’t have a response to that. Of course he does. When he’s not perfect, people _die,_ people get _hurt, Amy_ gets hurt, _Rory_ gets hurt –

Rory kisses him again, this time on his forehead. “Oy. Stop thinking so hard.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” the Doctor replies with a small grin, looking up at Rory, and the next kiss is on his mouth.

It’s hard to feel guilty when he’s feeling this _happy._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warnings: asexuality/demisexuality stigma, implied past aphobic experiences, sex discussion

The Doctor and Rory don’t really talk about it, afterwards. Oh, the Doctor knows he should bring it up with Amy, but how do you even start that conversation? He’s not sure whether he’s going to get slapped or not. Besides, she’s pregnant, which means she’s even more unpredictable than usual. So he just continues to pop in every few days (which is a lot more reliable than he’s ever been, and he doesn’t let on that he’s been avoiding the time vortex entirely and just been hopping around space on _this_ timeline, which is phenomenally boring and a true symbol of his dedication.) And whenever he pops in with another little treat or story, he tries not to glance at Rory too much, because the moment he does, the moment Rory reaches for something on a high shelf or leans against a wall, he remembers all over again that he knows what Rory looks like naked, he knows what Rory looks like with fingers in his mouth and –

The Doctor would love to claim he’s not easily flustered. Really. He would.

One day, he brings Amy a type of ice cream made from the milk of a creature from the frozen wastes of Sinda Kallista – mint flavoured – and he’s digging in to his bowl when she asks, “So how was it?”

“How was what, Sinda Kallista?” he says around the spoon in his mouth.

“Sex with Rory.”

He sputters, spitting out the spoon and wiping his chin. “I – _I’m sorry?_ ” he squeaks.

“Out with it!”

“I – I – I –“

“Oh my god, the _two of you._ I’m a curious gal, I want details!”

The Doctor has very suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

There’s the sound of feet on the stairs. “Turns out I don’t need to go in after all, although I don’t know how many false alarms there can be for –“ Rory comes to a halt, taking in the Doctor’s flustered face. “Amy, you _didn’t,_ ” he says with a resigned sigh.

“I got curious!”

“ _Together,_ we said. We’d bring it up _together._ ”

“So I jumped the gun a little.”

“Doctor, are you alright?”

“I, uh,” he wheezes slightly, putting down his bowl. “I am too old for this.”

“ _Bollocks,_ ” Amy pronounces. “What, _now_ you’re a prude? Actually, no, scratch that, you’ve always been like this.”

“You _knew?_ ” the Doctor exclaims finally.

“What do you take me for?” Rory sounds so offended that the Doctor is tempted to start apologizing immediately. “Of course I told her.”

“I don’t _mind,_ ” Amy says airily. “Rory shags blokes plenty.”

“It’s not exactly a common thing, Amy.”

“Well, common enough for it to have come up. How’d that conversation go?”

Rory rolls his eyes. “I think it started with _me_ getting jealous.”

“Don’t most of our big conversations start that way? Anyway, we talked about this years ago.”

“About –“ The Doctor is feeling a little weak in the knees. In the everything, actually. “This, specifically?”

Rory gives Amy a pat on the head. “You’re so bad at this. It – came up during one of our arguments –“

“ – it wasn’t an _argument,_ I’m just _Scottish –_ “

“- that if either of us got the opportunity, it’d be pretty hard to say no to. Well. You.”

The Doctor can’t help but feel like this is another jab at his charismatic personality. “What, because I convince people into things?”

“No, because you’re gorgeous and we’re both head over heels in love with you.”

It’s so unexpected from Rory that the Doctor has to put the bowl of rapidly-melting ice cream aside before he drops it. Apparently Rory’s just as unused to it; he glances away, obviously embarrassed, and Amy gives his hand a loving squeeze. “So, we had a little agreement where if one of us _just happened_ to end up lucky enough to shag you, we’d just tell the other about it and the other would just have to be unendingly jealous. Which I am, by the way. Especially since Rory won’t give me any _details!_ ”

It isn’t until now that the Doctor realizes that he’d been holding onto what happened between him and Rory as a Bad Thing that Should Not Have Happened. He feels guilty enough for his feelings for Rory and Amy to begin with – falling in love with his companions never goes well – and it doesn’t matter how much he enjoyed his night with Rory, how good it made him feel, it was Wrong. He was expecting to be punished for it, in one way or another. He wasn’t expecting…

He wasn’t expecting to have been _outmaneuvered._

He shifts in his seat, face still burning. He feels like an awkward teenager, put on the spot.

Rory sits down next to him, running fingers through his hair. “Amy’s a force of nature,” he jokes. “I _did_ tell her to maybe not just ask you out of nowhere.”

“He did,” Amy sighs. “Sorry. You _do_ get really cagey around sex.”

“I do not,” the Doctor sputters. “I just –“ Oh god. When was the last time he actually _talked_ about this? “I, um…” He’s _blushing._ God. Awkward teenager doesn’t cover it.

“How is this the one topic you’re so nervous around?” Amy asks, not teasing this time but completely genuine.

“It. It hasn’t always gone well.” It’s weird. He’s been through so much hell. He’s saved civilizations and destroyed them. He’s lost companions in fire. He’s done all these terrifying, amazing things. But talking about sex, how he forgets it’s a real thing sometimes, how he doesn’t really _want_ it until he falls in love with somebody and then remembers all over again what desire feels like – that’s humiliating. It’s so easy to pretend it’s because he’s an alien, that it’s a Time Lord thing. It’s not. He’s just… broken.

“It doesn’t always _occur_ to me,” he says instead with a sheepish grin. It’s easier than getting into the _drama_ of it all. How before he fell in love with River properly, all of her advances scared him. That that was how she knew he wasn’t in love with her yet. “Until I’m invested already.”

“That explains how you thought those sex workers were offering you directions.”

Rory’s hands are still in his hair, and the Doctor has to resist the urge to _purr._ He likes being touched. He’s had to learn how not to ask for it – that people, especially humans, will read different things into sharing a bed, holding hands, skin-on-skin.

“What _do_ you like?” Rory asks.

“That’s a very broad ques- _why are you asking,”_ the Doctor says with a sudden deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“We’re asking you what you want, Doctor,” Amy says with a sweet smile. “You’re the reason we’re having another baby. You’re the reason we’re alive. You’re our family. And…” She leans forward, taking his hand and doing the same gesture. Kissing his knuckles, pressing his hand to her cheek. “It’s _okay_ to love us,” she says, although her eyes are nervous, like he might reject her, claim that he doesn’t. She’s guessing, or feels like she’s guessing.

The Doctor leans forward and takes her face in his hands. He kisses her, slowly, letting himself have what he wants for the first time. When he pulls away, she’s starry-eyed, roses in her cheeks.

“You know, we really should have gotten around to this a long time ago,” Rory comments. “It would have solved a lot.”

“Hey, _I_ was all for it.”

“You described it as having a personal harem. Are you shocked I wasn’t on board at first?”

The Doctor chuckles, still feeling a little poleaxed. He’s still scared. He doesn’t know what this means. He’s never had somewhere to come home _to_ before. He doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Please, though, I am _desperate_ to know. Are you a service sub or not? Because I have money riding on it.”

The Doctor blinks. Rory face-palms, muttering, “Amy…” and then the meaning sinks in, and he kind of wants to melt through the floor.

Well.

She’s not _wrong._


	4. Chapter 4

After couples counselling – which has been odd lately – Amy and Rory go out for coffee. Their relationship feels frighteningly normal lately. Counselling doesn’t feel like something they’re doing to fix their relationship. It feels like something they’re doing to make sure the same problems don’t come up again. A better relationship, not a fixed one.

The stuff with the Doctor feels like a step in the right direction, but Rory is still cautious. Not because he’s jealous, or concerned. He’s gotten over that a long time ago. The more he gets to know Amy – and it doesn’t matter how much you love somebody, there’s always more of them to know – the more he understands how frightened she is when she shows part of herself to somebody new. She thought she’d put the rejection behind her years ago, and now her world has changed again.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m… thinking that being pregnant is weird. None of my clothes fit.”

Rory chuckles, and he’s distracted for a moment with adoration and excitement – “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” She faceplants onto the table. “My therapist keeps telling me off for that.”

He pats her on the head. “You’re working on it.”

“Grr. This whole sanity business is overrated. Can’t I just bite this one too?”

“You _could,_ but then you’d have bitten five mental health professionals, and is that what you want to be known for? Er, don’t answer that.”

Amy raises her head, then sighs. “…Do you ever want something for so long,” she says quietly, “that once you have the opportunity to _have_ it, you’re terrified you’re going to muck it up?”

“Yes,” Rory says frankly. “God, yes.”

“Really?”

Rory grins and decides to leave out how long exactly he spent courting her. “I am absolutely _petrified_ to be a dad. Remember that doll I used to have?”

Amy snorts. “Oh god. Mel and I used to torture you about that thing. Um, what did you call her?”

“Lily, I think. There’s something evil about my own daughter teasing me about a doll, you know.”

“You’ll be a great dad. It’s _me_ we need to worry about. I’m worried I’m going to leave the stove on.”

Rory can’t tell if she’s more worried about being a mother or her chance with the Doctor. He supposed they’re deeply entwined – the idea that she can be more than a scared little girl. He really can’t remember how polyamory first came up, whether it was a joke or a throwaway line from a tv show or something else. But he remembers what she said, the first time they properly talked away.

_I don’t want to be too much for you._

She’d encouraged him to go dance with the men he’d pretended he wasn’t admiring at bars, and flicked idly through Tinder and other apps, occasionally spending the night at other peoples’ homes. The day she’d kicked him out, he’d wondered if she’d finally found somebody she preferred to him – but every time he’d seen her in passing, and on TV, she’d been alone.

“I think you’re worrying about it too much.”

“Really?” she says flatly.

“You are aware that the Doctor is about as afraid of you as you are of him?”

Amy stares into her coffee. “And you?”

“Oh, you know me. I’m not afraid of anything. Except you in the mornings.”

She kicks him under the table, but the smile on her lips and the sparkle in her eyes is what really, truly convinces him – they’re going to be okay.

\----

Rory puts up his flat for sale – the other one that he’d been living in, those months they were separated – finally that afternoon. He hadn’t really mentioned it to Amy, although she knows about it. It’s one of those things that was _his_ business. Before he does, though, he walks through it, hands in his pockets, letting it sink in that this part of his life is over. Until they were beamed up onto a Dalek spaceship and back into the arms of the Doctor, he thought that his marriage was over.

And now he’s going to have a baby.

Part of why he’s worried, admittedly, is the feeling that maybe their kid will be born and all the issues will start up again. His parents did that. He’s an only child, a bandaid slapped on a failing marriage. But –

Rory sighs, taking down the sole piece of art on the walls (a print of the Scream, a little joke to himself) and asking himself what he’d do if his marriage fell apart again. He’d deal with it better this time, at least. He told Amy in broad strokes that he’d been “coping badly”, mostly because it’s utterly humiliating to admit that he – boring, dependable Rory – went on an alcoholic bender and brought strangers home. It’s a very Amy move, honestly. He’d try to stay friends with Amy, although it’d be hard.

No matter what, he won’t vanish.

The doorknob rattles, and the Doctor pokes his head in. “Hello, sorry! Amy said I’d find you here.”

That really seals the deal, doesn’t it? If Amy can still guess where he’s going to be – in a flat that he hasn’t mentioned in months – then Rory imagines things are going pretty well. “Yeah, just packing up.”

“You lived _here?_ Blimey. Kind of small, isn’t it?”

“Well, it was just me, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose.” The Doctor looks around with a confused look that is so relentlessly endearing.

“I’m selling it. Don’t worry.”

The Doctor’s face splits into a relieved grin, and he claps Rory on the shoulder. “Excellent, I was worried for a moment.” He’s about to pull away, then Rory grabs him by the wrist.

“No running off. I’m serious.”

The Doctor hesitates, something akin to fear in his eyes. “I –“

“I _know_ you.” Rory smiles, softening the accusation. “Avoiding her isn’t going to help.”

“I’m not _avoiding-_ “ the Doctor claims, then shrinks a little under Rory’s gaze. “This is the problem with letting somebody guard a box for two thousand years. Let somebody gain a few years on you then nothing’s safe.”

“I distinctly remember telling you off because people tried so hard to impress you. This is the same thing.” Rory pokes the Doctor in the chest. “Only you’re so worried about impressing _her_ that you’re either going to slink off or try to find a sun going supernova to spin her around.”

The Doctor squints at Rory. “You’re being very astute and I _don’t_ like it.”

“Where do you think River gets it from?”

“Oh lord. I’d never put that together before.” The Doctor rubs his temples. “I’m _good_ at finding big chaotic things. What’s wrong with doing that?”

“Well, for starters, if you put my pregnant wife in mortal danger, I’m going to put some more bruises on you and you’ll enjoy these ones a lot less.”

The Doctor’s ears turn pink. “P-point taken.”

Then Rory slides his hand down into the Doctor’s, squeezing his hand. “You’re gonna have to try really hard to fuck this up. And, well. I’d rather if you didn’t.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Rory. You know I love a challenge.” But the Doctor leans into him anyway. “…I still utterly despise that you’re older than me, and I want you to know that.”

Rory pats him on the head, and just laughs when the Doctor bites him. “I had that coming.”


	5. Chapter 5

Amy thought being pregnant would feel different. She definitely feels sick in the mornings. She feels…expectant, like she’s standing on the edge of something. But she doesn’t feel more complete or more adult. She feels like an eight-year-old kid still. Just… a very tall, leggy, pregnant one.

She lies on the grass of her – their – lawn, staring up at the cloudy sky, and when the Doctor appears over her, she isn’t particularly surprised. “Oy, bowtie. Get down here with me.”

He does so, wrapping an arm under her shoulders. “I did not take you for a cloud watcher.”

“I’m not. I’m actually planning revenge on the model who told me I’d gained weight yesterday.”

“Ah, yes, of course. What else?”

Amy curls into him, still wondering when he’s going to make up an excuse to leave. “I was on the phone with River yesterday.”

“Oh yeah? How’s she doing?”

“Apparently just got out of a tangle with Jim the Fish. One day you’re going to explain that to me.”

The Doctor laughs, trying to get the grin off his face. “I’m sure I will, I just haven’t gotten there yet.”

“I told her. About the baby.”

His grin fades slightly. “That must have been hard.”

It’s funny. She forgets that the Doctor isn’t bad with emotions all of the time – just when he’s distracted or has other things to do. Of course he understands how River must feel. He’s been there for all of it. “She said congratulations and –“ Amy sighs. “I don’t know how to tell her that she can come be a big sister, if she wants.”

“She might not want to,” says the Doctor thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s just scary. I mean, I’m not even part of this and I’m-“

“Not _part of this?”_

“I – well – “ The Doctor, bless him, knows when he’s messed up. His ears go pink.

Amy sits up, picks up her handbag and bonks him over the head with it, once, twice, three times – “Not _part of this?_ I am _pregnant_ because of _you!_ ”

“Amy, please, wording –“

“I don’t care! You are part of this family whether you like it or not!”

“Oh, that’s loving,” he snarks back, but there’s a pleased little glimmer in his eye. “So what am I, Doctor Pond?”

Amy rolls on top of him, straddling his hips and planting her handbag firmly and possessively in the center of his chest. “You’re my Raggedy Doctor.”

If his ears were pink before, now they’re a bright rhododendron. She’s also quite pleased to note that he certainly isn’t made of stone. The Doctor isn’t a man per se, but he seems to react like one. Still, she remembers what he said about his relationship to sex. It makes sense, with everything she knows about him. It makes sense why he’s always felt so _familiar._

She cups his cheek, trying to think of everything that’s ever made her feel safer, less like somebody broken or damaged. “Do you want to keep going?” she asks. It feels weird to say it explicitly, but good, too. Like she’s making a promise.

The Doctor’s so out of his element – but he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. “I… Yes.”

“Inside?”

“Part of me says don’t bother, but I’m fairly certain your neighbours are watching,” he says with a dopey smile.

\---

Amy soon finds out why Rory was so loath to give her details. The Doctor is at his most vulnerable in a bed, all of his flustered antsiness fading once he’s given and received permission to just… _be._ He’s focused on her, and part of Amy wants to care more that they don’t have ‘normal’ sex, but that fades quickly as she guides his fingers over her, tells him what she wants and revels in the thrill as he obeys her.

Afterwards, he lies in the crook of her arm, fingers drawing patterns on her stomach. There’s a hint of a bruise just below his throat, not one she left – but she knows who _did,_ and that’s almost better.

“You don’t get to do this often, do you?”

“What, sex? I mean, it happens, I –“

Amy strokes her fingers over his lips, admires the way he dips back into subspace and wonders what he would look like with a collar. “Not sex.” She taps the bruise. “ _This._ ”

He subsides into silence for a little, then shakes his head. “No.”

She can imagine. The Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, the great Time Lord? Nobody wants to imagine that he’d be submissive, desperate for somebody else to take control and tell him what to do. It makes sense to her, though. She’s only done pro-domme work a few times in her life, but it’s threaded throughout everything she does.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Cleaned up? I –“

“Shh.” She sits him up, and it takes him a minute to catch on. By then she’s already got her fingers working into the back of his neck, easing out the knots.

“Mm…I’m alright, I promise,” he claims, then – “Not that you _have_ to stop, that’s…. mmm.”

“Aftercare’s important, dummy. Don’t tell me you haven’t been getting any.”

“It doesn’t always come up. And I’m a Time Lord, I’m durable – _ow!_ ”

She’s pressed her finger particularly hard into a sensitive point of muscle. “Just because you can _regenerate_ doesn’t mean you can afford to burn through them,” she says savagely. “And from everything I’ve seen, you might be more durable, but you’re still perfectly squishy.”

“Squishy. What an insult.”

“Do you want me to poke your nerves again?”

“No, ma’am.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

\---

He falls asleep. All of that whining about how he doesn’t _really_ need aftercare, he’s a big strong boy, and he falls asleep. Amy can’t even be offended – it’s quite flattering – but it’s also ridiculously funny.

She sits next to him, shrugging her blouse back on, and brushes some of his hair out of his eyes. Then she touches her stomach, ever so lightly.

He’ll still vanish for weeks at a time. She knows that much. The TARDIS is finicky on the best of days, and he’s not good at staying still for too long at a time. But she’s okay with him coming back this often. It’s new for her, and… well, it’s new for him too.

When Rory comes home, Amy’s actually made dinner, which is a shock and a half as it is; but when the Doctor walks out of the bedroom door, yawning, eyes still half-closed as he lazily pulls his suspenders over his still-unbuttoned shirt – well, Rory’s reaction is worth _framing._ Not because it’s surprised. No, nothing so silly. Instead, Rory just smirks, and asks, “So, which of us is better?”

The Doctor’s eyes snap open, he stares at Rory, and his ears turn red. Again. At this point, they’re just going to stay that color. Then he grumbles, “I’m going to the _moon._ And _neither_ of you are invited.”


End file.
